


A completely normal, kinda awesome day

by comehaleorhighwater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Can Have Nice Things, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, canon implication of Braeden/Derek, slight derek/deputy parrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comehaleorhighwater/pseuds/comehaleorhighwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sound of water dripping from the roof onto the balcony is what woke Derek up. It must have rained last night, he can still smell it lingering in the air. He lays in bed for a few more minutes just because he can, enjoying the morning haze. Eventually the urge to relieve himself rouses him up. </p>
<p>or </p>
<p>In which Derek Hale has a completely normal kinda awesome day because lets face it, the man deserves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A completely normal, kinda awesome day

The sound of water dripping from the roof onto the balcony is what woke Derek up. It must have rained last night, he can still smell it lingering in the air. He lays in bed for a few more minutes just because he can, enjoying the morning haze. Eventually the urge to relieve himself rouses him up.

As he stumbles, limps still heavy with sleep, he begins to think of the things that he need to do for the day. He thinks of the grocery shopping that he has been putting off for the past couple days in lieu of getting takeaway from the Chinese place down the street. You can’t blame him though, their eggroll are the best damn eggrolls this side of Sacramento.  He sighs, he really didn’t want to leave the loft today, but he needs food and the fresh air would be good for him he guesses.

After finishing in the bathroom, he walk back into his bedroom over to the closet. He picks out his favorite long sleeved red shirt with the thumb holes in it (Chris hates that shirt and doesn’t hesitate to tell him every time he wears to. You get possessed and threaten to burn someone one time and they hold it against you forever) and a pair of faded jeans. He puts on a pair of old worn out Chucks and decided to forgo his leather jacket, wanting to be able to enjoy the cool breeze.

He closes the sliding door of the loft behind him, locks it, and begins to make the 7 floor trek downstairs. Why did he think that buying a loft on the 7th floor in a building without an elevator was a good idea? He had the same thought in New York when Laura decided to rent an apartment on the 9th floor in a building in Brooklyn.

“We can’t keep living like this Derek,” she told him one day when got back from her part-time job. “We’ve been living in this shit-hole motel room for 5 months and I’m fucking done with this place. We’re looking for apartments tomorrow.”

The next day Laura signed a year lease to a 9th floor walk-up apartment.

“This is our den now, baby brother. We’re safe here.”

And they were safe there, that is until Laura left and never came back.

Derek shakes his head, removing himself from his memories, as he unlocks the door to the Toyota.  He turn the car on and pulls out onto the street, making his way towards the nearest Walmart. He hates going to Walmart and would rather go to Whole Foods, but Walmart is the only place in Beacon Hills that he can find those weird veggie stick chips that he likes. The pack hates them, but whatever he doesn’t care.

“Whatever,” he thinks as the leans over to turn on the radio. “My loft, my food.” He doesn’t recognize the song that is playing on the radio, so he switches it to another channel. He knows this song. It was once of his favorites from before. He remembers him and his friends from the basketball team being obsessed with the band and played their album on constant repeat during practice.

He cranks up the radio, sings out loud at the top of his lungs just because he feel like it, glaring and occasionally snapping at people who look at him funny from their cars (“WE’RE GOING DOWN, DOWN IN AN EARILER ROUND AND- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! NEVER SEEN A MAN SING ALONG TO THE RADIO?!”)

 He wonders if Fall Out Boy had released any other albums since his high school days.

He pulls into the Walmart parking lot and sees a spot near the front of the store open. Another car in front of him also see the open spot and starts to pull forward to take it. Derek pushes on the gas, with a little more force that necessary, and snags the spot before the other car.

“You snooze, you lose fucker,” Derek mutters to himself as he gets out of the car and makes a little wave towards the losing car.

He grabs a cart on the way inside and starts to make his way up and down the aisles, picking out various foods that he needs and whatever else strikes his interest.  Derek is about to make his way towards the bathroom supplies area when decides to grab some oatmeal. He doesn’t particularly like oatmeal, but he knows that Isaac does. Even though Derek isn’t his alpha anymore, Isaac was still one of Derek’s first beta and he still cares for him. Even if the little shit does nothing but complain about how he can’t wear his precious scarves anymore because it’s too warm outside. He stares at two different boxes of oatmeal, trying to remember if Isaac like the one with the apples or blueberries better before just deciding to get both.

 He stops by the hair products are to get his usual hair gel. He doesn’t particularly like it, sometimes if he uses to much it can make it hair crunchy and he doesn’t like that. The brand that he prefers is actually a product that Laura use to buy. He accidently used it one day instead of his own and the whole day he kept wondering why his hair was light, fluffy, and silky. Of course Laura immediately noticed and yelled at him to buy his own $15 hair products. Well he wasn’t going to go buy $15 hair products on a regular basis and went back to using his regular product. That doesn’t mean that he stopped using Laura’s and occasionally splurged and bought some.

He’s just about to put his regular gel in the cart when a large display catches his eye. He looks over and see that his preferred product is on sale. Like a $10 off sale. Fuck. Yes.

There’s not that many containers left, only about 4 or 5, but Derek grabs them all anyway. He’s not about to let a sale like this pass him by. He walks up to the check out with a little more pep in his step because he knows that his in for a few months of great looking hair.

There didn’t seem to be many checkouts open, but that didn’t matter because there didn’t seem to be many people in the store. Derek pick the checkout with the old woman working. He preferred the older workers, the younger workers were always trying to hit on him, the scent of arousal and want rolled off them in waves and made him feel uncomfortable (plus the elder workers always had interesting stories to tell and sometimes smelt of peppermint, which he enjoyed).

The checkout process was slow, but that gave the old woman enough time to talk about her grandson. “Curse that boy!” she rants as she rings up his items. “I move back into town to be near him and that little brat never comes to visit anymore. My sweet Przemysław was such a nice boy, always coming to visit his Ba-Ba, now nothing. Scarcely a phone call. I blame his father, he’s my son. He’s the sheriff you see, and my poor Przemysław is always around all that violence and he’s all fascinated by all the law enforcement things and spends most of the time attached at the hip to the damn police scanner! That can’t be healthy for a growing boy. That will be $85.34, dear.”

After making a mental note to tell Stiles to visit his grandmother more, he bid her his goodbyes, collects his reusable bags (just because he’s a creature of the night, that doesn’t mean he can’t care about the environment), and makes his way back to his car.

He just finished putting his bags in his car, when he hears his name. At first he ignores it, thinking it might be for someone else.

“Derek Hale, you douchebag mofo! You better look up when I’m talking to you!”

Aw shit. Who’s this person yelling at him? Whatever it was he didn’t do it.

He looks up and he’s a mop of curly red hair that looks vaguely familiar. As the person gets closer, Derek realizes that he does in fact know this person. They used to be on the basketball team together back in the day…well Derek was on the team, the red head was the water-boy, but he was always around and was practically almost on the team anyway!

They used to call the red head Carrot, not because of the obvious reason of his red hair, but because his mother always used to send little snack-bags of carrot sticks to the basketball team. The team started to call him Carrot Stick, but was soon shortened to just Carrot. “I don’t even like carrot sticks,” he used to complain. “But yet here we are again with the damn carrot sticks.”

But his attitude toward the orange food changed after a few hits from the weed that he always seemed to have on hand. Nobody knew where he got it from or how he never got caught with it. Every once in a while, when practice let out early, Carrot, Derek and a few other boys from the team would sneak out behind the gym and smoke the joints that Carrot had given them. They only had a few hits each, but it was enough to get the other boys high and give Derek a small buzz.

“These carrot stick are the best damn thing I have ever tasted,” Carrot would say after they finally ran out of weed and the hunger began to set in. “Whoever invented these is a fuckin genius.” Of course Derek never got to the part where the hunger came in. He knew that it would take more than a few hits to get a werewolf stoned, but he never actually got a chance to try.

“Derek Hale, you ass. How the hell have you been? It’s been fuckin’ ages!” Carrot throws his arms around Derek, pulling him into a tight hug. Carrot had always been a hugger. Derek brings his arms around Carrot, taking note of his familiar scent, Old Spice and the smell of weed.

“I’m sorry about Laura,” Carrot says after releasing the hug. “I just got back into town a few months ago and heard. But at least you found Cora.”

Derek hasn’t seen Cora since she went back to Argentina with the pack she was staying with, but they do have weekly Skype sessions. “Yeah, at least she’s still here,” Derek agrees.

They talk for a few minutes, catching up on their lives, before Carrot has to leave. They exchange phone numbers and make plans for lunch in a few days. Carrot reaches in for another hug and as they release from the hug, Carrot slips a small brown baggie into Derek’s hand.

“You look stressed, bro,” he says quietly to Derek. “This should take the edge off.” He quickly leaves before Derek can protest.

Derek looks at the bag before shoving it into his pocket before anyone can see. The last thing that he needs to be arrested for possession. But hey at least he got some weed.

 

* * *

 

The drive home is quieter than on the ride to the store. The radio wasn’t playing anything good, so it was turned off early into the drive. Derek just enjoyed the breeze in his hair and the quietness around him.

It takes him 2 trips to carry all of his groceries up the stairs into the loft, cursing himself again as he makes the trips up and down the stairs. After putting all the groceries away, he figures he can take a nap. He isn’t doing anything important for the rest of the day and he well he likes naps, so fucking sue him. He changes out of his jeans and into a soft pair of sweats and takes his shirt off before climbing into the pile of blankets and pillows and drifting into a light sleep.

He awakes slowly a few hours later, the afternoon sun streaming though his window making the small particles of dust visible.  

He can feel the early tingles of arousal settling low in his stomach.

He ignores it for now in favor of getting a drink of water from the kitchen. On the way back, he thinks of the bag that Carrot had given him. It had been a long while since he indulged and he figures that he could unwind.

He grabs the weed out of his pocket, opens it to smell it. The sweet aroma fill his nose and he feels slightly excited over the aspect of not having to share, that he can keep this all for himself.

He settles himself on his bed and starts to pull out the contents of the bag. He discovers that the actual weed was put into a separate plastic sandwich baggie and Carrot had sent a package of rolling papers and a disposable lighter. Sweet, less time he has to spend looking for rolling paper and matches. Kudos to Carrot.

 He takes a sheet of the rolling paper out of the packaging, holds it open with one hand and with the other, opens the plastic bag, picks up some weed in between his forefinger and his thumb and places it upon the paper. He continues this process until it was full, rolled it, licked the seal closed and twisted the ends closed. He knew that it was a bit crude and that he probably did it wrong or something, but whatever gets the job done he guesses (plus this was the first time he was doing this himself, this part was usually done for him and from what he’s learned from the movies, he’s 95% sure that this would do just fine).

He brings the joint up to his lips and grabs the lighter. He lights the joints and take his first drag. The smoke fills his lungs, he holds it for a few seconds before releasing and coughing a few times. Damn, it’s been a while since he’s done this.

He takes a few more hits, causing him to feel more relaxed and lethargic. His bones start to feel weakened and a foggy haze rolls across his mind. He hasn’t felt this peaceful in years.

“I need to do this more. Why don’t I do this more?” Derek mumbles to himself as he leans back onto the headboard, looking up at the ceiling. This calmness and peacefulness is something he can get used to.

He takes another drag, slowly exhaling into the air. He can feel the tingling in his belly that he had been ignoring become more constant. He can feel his cock slowly hardening. He drags his hand down slowly down his chest to his cock and gently squeezes it and lets out a small moan. He wonders what it would be like to jerk off while high. Would being high damper the feeling or would it enhance it?

Derek was nothing if not a man of science. He knew that the best way to answer a hypothesis was by experimenting, so that is what he was going to do. He was gonna jerk off in the name of science.

Derek lets go of his cock, already missing the slight pressure, lifts his hips and removes his sweats. The joint is near its end, so he quickly takes the last hit and stubs it out on a nearby nightstand. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs slightly earning himself another moan. He brings his free hand toward his chest to tweak his nipples.

His nipples had always been more sensitive than normal, he always questioned if it was a werewolf thing or just a him thing. He rolls his nipples between his fingers, feeling them hardened under his touch. He removes his fingers, just to lick them and return them to their previous task. The shock of the wetness on his nipple causes him to gasp out loud and his cock to twitch. He looks down at his cock, fully hard lying flat against his stomach. Little drops of pre-cum have already gathered at the tip. He whimpers at the sight of it.

From what he has gathered so far, yes being high enhances his sex drive. He hasn’t gotten this horny this fast since he was a teenager. He could already feel that this was going to be an intense orgasm and he was. So. Fucking. Ready.

He removes the hand that was previously in his hair and gently moves it down his body. He rubs at his neck, twists at a nipple, teasingly skims over his abs, gently pulling at his pubic hair, and runs his hand over his thigh leaving fiery trails of need in its wake.

The tip of his cock leaks out onto his navel. He uses his free hand to dip his fingers into the puddle. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucks on the tips and moans at the taste.

After what seemed like hours of teasing, he finally lets himself touch his cock. Its slick with his juices and he can feel it pulsing in his hand. He strokes his hand up and feels heat rushing though his veins. He keeps at a steady pace, twisting the tip in his head before gliding back down. Up, twist, down, squeeze. Up, twist, down, squeeze. He thinks of Braeden and how her soft breasts felt against his hand and mouth. How her tongue felt against his, the heat and passion that they shared. He thinks of Deputy Parrish and how it might feel to be pinned down by the Deputy, having his hard body pressed against his own, to be filled, to be used. He can feel his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Derek strokes his shaft faster, the sounds of skin slapping together and his own pants and moans fill the room and his ears. He reaches down, past his balls and strokes the skin around his hole. His hips arch as he lets out another loud groan. He thinks of reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the bottle of lube that he keeps stashed in there, but he knows that he’s too far gone right now to even attempt it. “Next time,” he thinks. “Next time.”

He knows that he won’t last long, he’s so close. His thighs start to shake, hips bucking at their own accord, his hand working even faster against his cock, each stroke more electric than the last. He tries to hold it back, trying to prolong his pleasure, but it becomes too much. He lets go and lets pleasure take over, rolling with the waves and with the heat, watching the little white lights behind his eyes dance until his vision goes black.

He comes to a few minutes later, hand still gripping his cock. He looks down at his body. He’s filthy, there’s cum everywhere. Streaked all the way up his stomach, in his chest hair, onto his neck, caught onto his beard. He rubs his cum into his stomach and lets out a small moan. He really can’t bring himself to care about cleaning himself up right now, but he knows that if he didn’t clean it now it was just going to get flaky and gross later.

He lies there for a few more minutes before getting out of bed on unsteady legs, whether it be from the weed or the mind-blowing orgasm that he just had he doesn’t know, and makes his way into the bathroom. He showers quickly, washing away the cum covering his body, and jerks himself off again, enjoying the feel of the warm water running down his body mixing together with his own self pleasure.

 He gets out of the shower and walks into his bedroom naked. He strips the bed of the comforter and top sheet, grabs another blanket from the nearby linen closet, and lays back down on the bed. He feels another nap coming on.

 

* * *

 

The sound of his phone ringing is what wakes him up this time. He put it somewhere on the nightstand and if only he could reach it, he stretches a bit more and reaches the phone. It’s Cora face-timing him. He rolls over onto his side and accepts the call.

Cora’s face pops up on the screen, she looks the same as she did when she left, only tanner. “Hey big bro, what’s- wait are you naked? Why are you naked?”

“Hello to you sister,” Derek replies, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah I’m just gonna ignore your naked-ness. Just don’t move the camera down, ok. Anyway, how’s it going? Did you have a good day?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Derek says, thinking of the peaceful and stress free day he’s had and not to mention the best damn orgasm he’s ever had. “Yeah, it was pretty damn good.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Look! I'm on tumblr: comehaleorhighwater.tumblr.com


End file.
